Respect
by JustCallMeTuesdayTaitlyn
Summary: But was it so much to ask for a little respect?


**Sadly, I don't own Saints Row Two or All Time Low. I wish I did. :3**

His name was Pierce, and he was a lieutenant for the Third Street Saints. An underdog for the twenty-four year old female leader named Emmerson Williams, Pierce was, in his own mind, the least respected of the lieutenants. Forever getting taunted and snipped at, leaving the Saints had crossed his mind with alarming regularity, always to be shot down instantly. This was his life, the path he'd chosen to take. He couldn't back out of the gang-life, and joining or starting any other gangs was like signing up for suicide. Although his boss could take a laugh, and have fun, and party and smoke like the rest of them, she was ruthless. It was hard for him to explain to himself. She wasn't a maniac, like anyone outside of the gang thought. She was completely sane and well, but … she handled killing people like an assassin would. Completely free of any kind of guilt and remorse. She almost laughed when she did it, and Pierce had no doubts if he walked to any other gang or organisation and he went up against her, she'd kill him without so much as a bat of an eyelid.

But was it so much to ask for a little respect? The question circled Pierce's mind time and time again. The boss respected Shaundi well enough, and although there was light teasing on Carlos's part, it was obvious she adored him the way an older sister would adore a younger brother, and, Pierce knew, if anyone so much as thought about hurting Carlos and she caught wind of it, they'd die a slow, brutal, and extremely painful death. As for Johnny, they were always annoying each other, but Emmeron's respect for Johnny and Johnny's respect for Emmerson was not unknown to anyone, and even if it was, one look at the pair was enough to show it.

So that left Pierce, at the side, like a puppy that had been kicked out into the rain. He felt as though everyone treated him as though he was a joke. He'd done nothing of importance to the Third Street Saints; Hell, even Carlos had done more than he had, and he couldn't produce good plans or evidence against The Brotherhood. All Pierce ever did was collect information and make plans against The Ronin, and it was shot down to be replaced, or taken credit for by Shaundi. Even when he found the most valuable pieces, he was given a simple, 'OK', or possibly, if he was lucky, a 'Thanks, dude'. Never a 'Good job, mate', or 'Remind me to buy you some shrooms', like Shaundi or Carlos were praised. Not that he needed shrooms, but it would be nice if he was offered something of the sort.

Of course he couldn't voice his opinions to Emmerson or Johnny. They'd laugh, and tell him to get a grip and stop being a whiny little bitch, which would ultimately prove his point, but he didn't fancy getting his neck put on the line. No one had dared stand up to Emmerson like that. No one had ever questioned her without getting eaten and spat up afterwards. Shaundi would tell Emmerson or Johnny, and the same thing would happen, and Carlos? Carlos would be a shy little bugger, and no help at all. So, he'd have to keep his mouth zipped.

The day was Monday, and Pierce had nothing better to do than go to Purgatory and see if anything had changed between himself and anyone. Of course he doubted it. It was a mere, pathetic ray of hope that wouldn't get him through shit.

"Yo, asswipe," His boss grinned at him as he jogged down the stairs. Pierce lifted a hand to give a small wave, accompanied with a half smile. "Whaddya got for me?"

Pierce looked blank as he told her, "Nothing."

His Boss shook her head, folding her arms across her chest and waiting for an explanation. Pierce shrugged, sprawling across the white plush couch. "I took a break from the research," He explained to her. She shook her head again, and Pierce only then noticed there was no one around.

"Why did you do that?" Her voice was low, and Pierce knew that meant she was trying to control herself. The male blinked, sitting upright.

"Well, I thought I'd done enough work. I mean-"

"A banger's work is _never_ done, Pierce!" She interrupted, standing on both feet and glaring at him. "How many times do I gotta tell you?"

"I…" Pierce sighed in defeat. He could yell at her, right at that very second, but of course, he wasn't stupid enough to know when not to fuck with his boss. "Yo, I'm sorry."

"Pierce…" She sighed, sitting next to the boy. "Please. Get your head in the game, dude. You've not been having any bright ideas recently. Remember yesterday? Shaundi had that idea and you-"

"That was _my_ idea," Pierce suddenly growled. "_My_ idea, Emmerson. Not Shaundi's, _mine._"

"Fuck you say?" The girl raised an eyebrow.

"You fucking heard me," Pierce stood abruptly. "I'm sick of this shit. Fucking damn sick of it. Sick of no respect and the way you fucking overlook me, the way you never praise me. God, Emmerson. I thought you'd be an excellent boss! I thought you'd be amazing!" He yelled, angrily. "I thought-" He broke himself off quickly. "You know what? Fuck it." He started up the steps again.

"Pierce! Get the fuck back here, now!" His Boss called from behind him. The boy ignored her for the first time in his gang banger life, left her standing there in fury, and left the building, rage coursing through his veins as he slammed into his car and drove away. He hadn't meant it, really, but he'd been pushed to the very edge of his limits. He couldn't take it any more. He couldn't take all the voices telling him he was essentially nothing to anyone.

Flicking the radio on, the song Therapy by All Time Low came on. He drove around the streets furiously, listening to the lyrics closely.

_Arrogant boy,_

_Love yourself so no one has to,_

_They're better off without you,_

_Arrogant boy,_

_Cause a scene like you're supposed to,_

_They'll fall asleep without you,_

_You're lucky if your memory remains…_

**I dunno if I'll write more. Did you like it? I think it's okay, for me. xDD**

**So, review and I'll write more. Yeah, it's going to be a Romance ficcy. thankyou!**


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